


Don't Let Love Pass You By

by FrisianWanderer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Multi, Romance, Smut, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrisianWanderer/pseuds/FrisianWanderer
Summary: To distract herself from her best friend, Clarke sat up and took a sip of her drink, but unfortunately her brain seemed to be under some kind of Bellamy bound spell, making it impossible to swallow like an adult. Some of the amber liquid escaped her mouth and landed on her chest, trailing down her generous cleavage.Clarke could feel Bellamy’s gaze burning a hole where the drops of scotch travelled down her breasts, and when her own eyes left her chest, she met Bellamy’s eyes, which quickly snatched up to hers.Bellamy’s pupils were blown wide and he wet his lips with his tongue, making something ache between her thighs. Something flashed in his eyes and the next thing Clarke knew was that their lips met in the middle of the space between them.---In a summer filled with wedding obligations and weddings, Clarke finds herself spending the night with her best friend and favourite person, Bellamy. She now needs to figure out if it’s their friends’ incredibly romantic lives that got to their heads, or if there actually is more than friendship between the two of them. But, will she figure it out in time?





	Don't Let Love Pass You By

**Author's Note:**

> If you like sexy smut, angst and Bellarke figuring out the obvious, with in the background all of the Delinquents getting married and being awesome/annoying friends - THEN THIS ONE IS FOR YOU!!! :D 
> 
> My apologies for any mistakes.

 

T. S. Elliot once wrote that April is the cruellest month.

Clarke Griffin disagreed. She believed it to be July, and _this_ July was no exception; it was more a prime example than anything else.

Where others loved the summer month, Clarke favoured the months in the fall, or in the spring. Her pale, creamy skin didn’t sunburn in the colder months nor did she need to worry about getting a heatstroke, smelling like sweat 24/7, or about being covered in mosquito bites.

And this July would be even more challenging. Where July had at least been relaxing last year (Clarke, Octavia and Raven had gone on a two week holiday to the beach), this year it was filled with stress, last minute planning, extra trips to the gym, and even more stress.

Two of Clarke’s closest friends were getting married and in between those two events her two oldest friends had their engagement party.

She was both Lincoln’s and Wells’ Best Woman, and a bridesmaid in Monty and Miller’s wedding party. So no, there was no going away to the beach for two weeks to drink cocktails, swim in the ocean and flirt with tanned strangers this year.

Instead Clarke was going to witness four of her best friends make the most beautiful commitment of their lives and for Monty and Miller to celebrate their engagement. Which was obviously a million times more exciting than a trip to the coast, but did it _all_ have to be in _July_ , dammit?!

Clarke put on deodorant for the tenth time that day and gave herself one last look over in the giant mirror, before she turned to the groom who was having problems with knotting his tie.  

“Here, let me,” she said, and Lincoln gave her a grateful smile.

Anya, his cousin and other bridesmaid, was adding the finishing touches to her make-up, and Nyko, Lincoln’s best friend (well, tied with Clarke. She’d only gotten the job as Best Woman because she was better at planning – if Lincoln was to be believed) was standing on the balcony enjoying the view and his cigarette.

“Nervous?” she asked him, her eyes still on the purple tie she was tying.

“No, only excited,” Lincoln answered, and when she looked up, Clarke was met by a dazzling smile.

She knew he wouldn’t feel nervous, but it was Clarke’s duty as Best Woman to be absolutely sure he wasn’t having cold feet. Bellamy would appreciate it, at least – Lincoln was marrying his sister after all.

“You’ve never looked more handsome, by the way,” Clarke complimented her friend, admiring the way he looked in his grey wedding suit with white vest and a concord purple tie. “Octavia is going to faint when she sees you.”

Lincoln chuckled and ducked his head, to hide a blush. He never was a champion in receiving compliments. “No, I bet I’m the one who’s going to do the fainting. I can’t even begin to imagine how beautiful she’s going to look.”

Clarke’s smile widened, happy to hear how much Lincoln loved his bride, and thinking of how right he was; Octavia was going to look stunning. Clarke already had the privilege to have seen O’s wedding dress, and she couldn’t wait to see how it would look when the brunette was walking down the aisle while wearing the gown. “It wouldn’t matter what O would be wearing – she’d look hot in a paper bag. You’re a very lucky man, Evergreen,” she added a wink, and Lincoln chuckled again.

“I know,” he agreed, nodding.

Nyko had reappeared into the room and Anya was satisfied with her appearance, so the four of them (after making sure everyone looked perfect in their wedding attire) agreed to make their way over to the altar.

Lincoln and Octavia were getting married on the grounds of an estate (that was now functioning as a hotel), in the middle of a beautiful forest, with their family and closest friends surrounding them. They had agreed to keep the wedding ceremony simple and private, and to go all out during the reception. Where there were only 35 people to witness their vows, Octavia and Lincoln had invited almost everyone they’d ever met, and liked enough to see again, to the reception.

The forest was the perfect location for this wedding ceremony. Not only was it the perfect fit for Lincoln and Octavia, but the trees also provided a beautiful setting and much needed shade to cool everyone down on this hot day.

“Ready?” Clarke asked Lincoln, smiling excitedly, when they were waiting for Octavia and her groomsman and bridesmaids at the altar.

“Born ready,” he assured her.

A moment later a guitarist danced with his hands over his Spanish guitar, filling the air with a romantic melody. Raven, Octavia’s maid of honour, walked down the short grassy path that was made to look like a beautiful aisle. She was followed by Bellamy and Harper, and finally Octavia appeared arm in arm with her godfather, Marcus Kane, who was giving her away.

Clarke didn’t think there had ever been a bride as beautiful as Octavia that day. Clarke could hear Lincoln suck in a breath and mumble his admiration to himself. The white dress with its sweetheart neckline and wide skirt sparkled in the sunlight, but no amount of shimmering beadwork could take anyone’s attention off of Octavia herself. Her green eyes shone with happiness and her red painted lips carried the most beaming smile, while she walked down the aisle towards her husband-to-be.

Marcus kissed Octavia’s cheek when he gave her away, and Clarke saw him wipe a tear off his cheek when he sat down in his chair.

When Octavia had given Raven her bouquet of white orchids and purple roses, and turned to face Lincoln, Clarke could feel Bellamy’s gaze land on her. She met his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking why he turned his attention away from his sister. Bellamy smiled and send her a wink in return before his gaze left her again, and the insignificant signal of attention made her cheeks turn pink in a surprising matter. Clarke quickly retracted her gaze from her friend, blaming her reddened cheeks on the fact that Bellamy seemed to be born to wear the suit he was wearing and she only was a weak human being with a pulse.  

No, that was ridiculous – he was her _best friend_ , for crying out loud; Bellamy, the guy she’d seen riding a unicycle once and fall in a fountain _multiple_ times. It was just the warm weather taking its toll.

Jasper, who was the solemniser that was going to officiate the wedding, started to perform the ceremony, which effectively stopped Clarke’s train of thought.

Jasper may not have been Octavia and Lincoln’s first choice for the job, but he’d wanted to do it so badly, that Lincoln hadn’t had the heart to refuse. Octavia did, but Lincoln persuaded her, and she agreed on the condition that _‘if Jasper fucks this up, I’m going to kill him and you’re helping me hide the body’_.  

But, he didn’t fuck up. Jasper did a splendid job and before Clarke knew it, the bride and groom said their vows and they put a ring on it (to quote Queen B on this monumental day).

Clarke had to wipe a few tears off her cheeks, and even Bellamy, who never broke down in public (he was only that vulnerable in front of Clarke), couldn’t stop the waterworks.

Everyone erupted in cheers when Octavia and Lincoln shared their first kiss as a married couple, and soon all of them trailed behind the newlyweds to the hotel where dinner and a party were waiting on them.

Several speeches followed and dinner had passed in the blink of an eye, and then it was Bellamy’s time to shine. Octavia had asked Marcus to give her away, but she wanted to do the traditional father daughter dance with her brother.

Bellamy was an awful dancer and had tried to change his sister’s mind about the dance, but Octavia was (just like her brother) as stubborn as a mule and Bellamy loved her too much to refuse her anything.

“You can do it, Bell,” Clarke encouraged her friend, who was sitting next to her on the head table. She gave him a smile and squeezed his upper arm in encouragement. “Remember: just have fun and keep at least one foot on the floor.”

“Cute, Princess,” he grumbled, but he couldn’t suppress his smile for long. Clarke knew this was one of the best days of his life (if not _the_ best) and even if he would make a fool out of himself and fall on his ass, nothing would ruin this day for Bellamy.

Octavia had decided to not do the traditional waltz with her brother, but a free-spirited _“whatever the hell we want”_ kind of dance, so Clarke was certain Bellamy was capable enough – especially after the nights the two of them danced away in Clarke’s home, practicing.

And, well, their practices hadn’t exactly made _perfect_ , but at least Bellamy didn’t look like a stiff rake on the dancefloor. Bellamy twirled his sister around and the siblings laughed, obviously having a good time and that’s what it was all about.

Bellamy mock bowed when the song had ended, and his crowd applauded him – Clarke included.

“Not as disastrous as could’ve been,” Clarke winked, when Bellamy returned to his seat next to her. “My lessons obviously paid off.”

“Obviously,” Bellamy agreed, and he took a sip of his champagne. “Thanks again, Princess.”

“No worries,” Clarke assured her friend, as the first notes of ‘One and Only’ by Adele filled the air, and Octavia and Lincoln began their first dance as a married couple. It was a much slower and more romantic dance than the one prior, and watching the couple slow dance had a calming effect on Clarke and her lips curled into a soft smile. Lincoln and Octavia loved one another so dearly and it was a privilege to witness that love.

Octavia invited all of their guests to join them on the dancefloor, and soon the band they hired started playing a nice classic rock song that had all the guests dance their asses off alongside the newlyweds.

All of their friends paired off; Wells with Raven, Monty with Miller, Jasper with Maya, Murphy snuck off to the open bar, and Bellamy got whisked away by a cute strawberry blond guy. Clarke ended up dancing with Nyko for a couple of dances, before she sat down next to Murphy at the open bar and watched him fail at flirting with the bartender while Clarke enjoyed a few glasses wine.

It was very amusing to watch, but Clarke had come into this wedding with a mission of her own: to see if she could get somewhere with Anya. Anya was exactly her type for girls (intense, feminine, and smart) and even if the last time she dated a girl like that blew up in her face (at least she’d learned a lot from her relationship with Lexa..), Clarke figured she shouldn’t held that against Anya. Her fellow bridesmaid was also very hot and they did get along, so Clarke had planned to make her move at the wedding.

Which was now.

Clarke convinced Anya to dance with her, but the brunette didn’t seem to be interested in more than dancing with Clarke. Anya didn’t flirt back and kept a respectful distance between their dancing bodies. Clarke was about to retreat and lick her wounds, when her dance partner excused herself to go call her _girlfriend_. 

Knowing why her moves weren’t reciprocated was both a relieve and a disappointment to Clarke, but Wells saved her from going back to the bar where she could lessen her sorrow with booze and get laughed at by Murphy, when her oldest friend made her dance with him.

“There’s my best friend,” Clarke smiled, putting her arms around his neck while they swayed to the music together. Clarke was reminded, again, how happy she was that she and Wells had regained their friendship after their disastrous breakup and the two years of radio silence after that. But, luckily, all was now in the past.

“You call every one of us your best friend,” he said amused.

“That’s because all of you are my number one,” Clarke smiled, happy.

“Really?” Wells asked teasingly, a knowing look on his face, and an image of Bellamy flashed before her eyes.

“Really,” she lied.

“Liar,” he laughed, and Clarke fiercely defended herself by saying she wasn’t.

“You’re staying the night in the hotel as well, right?” Wells asked, kind enough to change the subject, and Clarke nodded in response. As Best Woman she’d offered to help clean up alongside of Raven (with Wells, they were a package deal) and Bellamy, who’d offered because apparently he loved boring chores that made him seem responsible.

The four of them decided it was best to stay at the hotel, so they didn’t have to drive back in the dark and that way they could enjoy alcohol at the party. Clarke and Bellamy had both booked a singles room, and Wells and Raven a double one. The rest of their gang had carpooled together with Monty offering to be their designated driver.

Lincoln and Octavia were going on their honeymoon immediately after the reception, returning just in time for Monty and Miller’s engagement bash – as Jasper excitedly dubbed it.

“I didn’t have time to check in yet,” Clarke commented. “How do the rooms look?”

“Clean and cosy,” Wells promised, before his lips turned into a childlike smile. “And the view on the balcony is amazing, too”

“Well, I don’t think I’m going to take the time enjoying my view after cleaning up. My heals are already killing me, so I’ll probably just launch myself onto bed and call it a day.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know they’re quite comfortable – I took a nap right after settling in,” he grinned, and Clarke gasped, feigning shock, and slapped his upper arm.

“So, you were just catching up on your beauty sleep while your fiancé and your oldest friend, which would be _me_ , were slaving away for this wedding?”

“That’s exactly why I chose you to be _my_ Best Woman—“

“Because I’m your oldest and most dear friend?”

“Because Rae and I can count on you to work yourself to death if it means we get the perfect wedding.”

“I feel honoured,” she said in a sarcastic tone, but both Clarke and Wells knew she was.

“Clarke, the bride and groom want to dance with you next!” Raven announced, popping up out of nowhere, and taking back her fiancé.

That’s how Clarke found herself dancing her next few dances with Lincoln and Octavia, before she excused herself to give her feet some much needed rest and to rehydrate herself with a coffee and a water. She didn’t suspect that Murphy had moved an inch since he sat down, and she saw he was still trying to get a laugh out of the pretty bartender, when she plumped down on the stool next to him.

Clarke turned around on her barstool, so her back could lean against the bar’s counter and her eyes could take in her dancing friends. Suddenly, Bellamy seemed to appear out of thin air, making his way over to her. He seemed to have abandoned his jacket and his curls were in disarray, and as if he didn’t look hot enough, he’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, which happened to be one of Clarke’s few kinks (thank the heavens he wasn’t wearing his glasses).

“Fancy seeing you here,” she winked.

“Dance with me, Griffin. My sister is only getting married once,” he took her hand in his and Clarke had just enough time to put her water down, before he dragged her off to the dancefloor.

“We sure do hope so. _Hey_!” she squealed when he pinched her side, and she started to laugh. Her arms curled around his neck, loosely, and his hands landed on her hips. Right on cue a slower song started to play, giving Bellamy and Clarke the perfect excuse to stay this close to one another. “So, turns out Anya just started dating a girl who couldn’t make it today.”

“Well, you can’t have ‘em all,” he winked, before his lips turned into a playful smile. “Have I already told you how beautiful you look today?”

“No, but you still have time.”

“Really? Because that seems to be all I can think today.”

Her cheeks heated up, totally out of the blue again, and she could feel the blush go all the way to the tips of her ears. In means to save herself she rolled her eyes and told him to shut up.

“This is the part where you compliment _me_ ,” he grinned, and Clarke laughed.

“Like you don’t know how handsome you look. I think I even saw Wells checking out your ass and we all know he’s boringly straight.”

This time it was Bellamy’s laughter that filled the air between them, before he twirled Clarke around and pulled her back against his body, even closer than before. It was as if he’d done it for that reason alone. “Your signature move,” Clarke teased.

“You know it,” Bellamy agreed. “I can just stand still, looking pretty, while the rotator does the job.”

“ _Rotator_?” she snorted.

“‘Would you prefer _spinster_?” he quipped.

“Funny,” she replied drily, but she smiled anyway. “On how many of your dance partners did you pull that move?”

“Honestly? Only O.”

“Really?” the blonde asked, a little surprised. “Not even that guy that came to the table and received your _first dance_?”

“You sound jealous,” Bellamy said smug.

“As if!” Clarke grinned. “I got _Nyko’s_ first dance – nothing can compare to that,” she winked. “But, you really didn’t?” she was honestly surprised, and curious to know more.

“No, nor on my other dance partners,” Bellamy promised.

“And who were they?”

“Well, let’s see: Raven, Harper, my sister and now brother-in-law, Miller and Monty, Maya and Jasper, Indra, Marcus, and Anya,” he answered.

“How boring; all of them are taken.”

“Oh, yeah? And with how many single people did you dance?”

“With Nyko, and I had drinks with Murphy,” Bellamy burst out in knowing laughter when she mentioned Murphy, because he knew that she would never have a serious interest in their friend. “And I thought Anya was single when I asked her to dance, so that has to count as something,” Clarke added.

The slow and romantic notes of John Legend’s ‘All of Me’ turned into a song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but Bellamy held Clarke as close to him as she would let him. Clarke didn’t get the impression he wanted to let her go soon, so she stayed put. “They picked a wonderful day to get married,” Clarke commented, leaning in a little closer so Bellamy could hear her.

“Yes, O would’ve probably cancelled the whole thing if it had started to rain.”

“She wouldn’t have,” Clarke smiled. “She really wanted to get married to Lincoln.”

Bellamy got a soft look in his eyes, full of brotherly love. “She did, didn’t she?”

Clarke nodded in agreement. “But, it’s just a little too hot for my taste,” she said, referring to her earlier statement, sighing heavily. “Remember all those times when you fell into a fountain? That would be refreshing right about now.”

He pinched her side in retaliation, again, and received a sort like squeal from her, again. “You’re a goddamn menace, Princess.”

“Yeah, but you still love me.” Clarke said smug, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Bellamy huffed. “You wish,” but his eyes betrayed his agreement.   

 

*

 

After Lincoln and Octavia had left in a cab that was going to take them home, so they could change and catch their flight, and all of the guests had left, Clarke started cleaning up with Wells, Raven, Bellamy and some members of the hotel staff.  

“Excuse me, but do you have a sec?” the bartender asked Clarke when she was about to head out. “I still have some liquor over that the Evergreens paid for – can I give those bottles to you?”

“You’re not taking them back with you?” Clarke asked, surprised.

“I can’t. They already paid for it, so it would be—“

“Stealing,” Clarke finished, understanding. “Yeah, sure, you can give them to me.”

The box contained two champagne bottles, two white wines, one red, and a bottle of scotch. It wasn’t much, but Clarke was surprised these 6 bottles had survived the party – almost everyone had drank alcohol like it was a competition.

“Need some help with that?” Bellamy asked, when he walked with her to the elevators.

“With carrying the box or drinking its content?”

“Both,” he smirked, and he took over the heavy lifting for her, when the elevator doors closed behind them. “I say we split up these goods and keep my sister and brother-in-law in the dark.”

“What do you mean with _let’s_? Those are mine, and mine alone,” Clarke protested.

“Well, I am carrying them, aren’t I? You made me an accomplice and now I want something out of it in return,” he quipped.

Clarke laughed. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, pulling her room card out of her bra, grateful she’d checked in and dropped her bag off in her room right before Lincoln and O headed out. “Just put it there,” Clarke requested, pointing at the desk in the room.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bellamy said in a fake British accent.

Clarke chuckled. “That was terrible.”

“Then I’m lucky I’m not making my money with something that requires a British accent.”

Clarke took her heels off, _finally_ , wincing when her feet met de soft carpet of her hotel room. “I’ll make you a deal,” she started. “You can have one bottle in exchange for a foot rub.”

Bellamy considered her and licked his lisp. “Two,” he negotiated.

“Deal. But it better be one hell of a massage.”

They planted themselves on the balcony, Clarke drinking a tea while Bellamy massaged her sore feet. She thought the warm drink and Bellamy’s hands would keep her warm enough in the cold night, but she started to shiver, and soon his jacket was resting on her shoulders to keep her warm.

Being a night owl had the effect that Clarke was wide awake again, and she and Bellamy started talking about everything that came to mind that was equally as important as unimportant, like they always did. It was always easy with him.  

“You think you’ll ever get married?” Bellamy asked her.

“If I do it won’t be in July,” the blonde stated firmly.

Bellamy snorted. “You’re probably the only person I know that dislikes the best month of the year.”

“Easy for you to say; you get even more tanned than usual and your cute little freckles multiply,” Clarke countered.

“Cute little freckles, huh?” he smirked. His gaze bored into hers with an unexpected intensity and his large hands halted for a second before continuing with kneading her feet.

“Meanwhile, I’m over there getting all sunburned in the shade. The _shade_ , Bellamy. So, if I ever get married, it’s not going to be in July, no,” she continued, ignoring his question. “What about you?”

“I honestly don’t give a shit,” Bellamy shared.

“How romantic of you,” she remarked drily, and he rolled his eyes.

“If all of this wedding planning has taught me anything, it’s that I think it’s all kind of extravagant—don’t get me wrong, today was great and I’m really happy Octavia got her dream wedding and all, but for me it’s about the marriage,” he continued. “I don’t care if I get married on an estate or in a tent or wherever, as long it’s with the right person and the marriage will last.”

Clarke swallowed, her voice had escaped her. She could’ve been surprised Bellamy was a secret romantic at heart, but she wasn’t. However, that didn’t explain why she was unable to respond to his statement. Time stretched on, and when Clarke could feel the pressure of responding as a weight on her chest, she settled on, “Yeah, same,” before talking a big gulp of her tea.

“But, I do want there to be cake. That’s my only request,” he smiled.

Clarke thought about making a joke about how he would let people eat cake, referring to Marie Antoinette, so she could rile up Bellamy (aka history buff) for her own entertainment, but ended on plain agreeing with him. “The cake is a must, indeed.”

Much to Clarke’s dismay, Bellamy stopped massaging her feet. “How about we open one of those bottles now?” he suggested. “The scotch?”

“Sure,” Clarke agreed, and she lowered her feet to the ground, missing his warm hands even before her feet hit the cold tiles. Bellamy left her to get the scotch and two glasses.

Clarke curled into his warm side when he returned, and he put an arm around her while they toasted on a successful (wedding themed) July. She loved cuddling with Bellamy; he was always so warm and soft, and yet firm. The faint scent of his musky cologne, mixed with his sweat, engulfed her, and when his thumb started caressing her arm (which was still covered loosely by his jacket), she had to suppress a shiver.

Bellamy swallowed a gulp of his scotch and Clarke watched as his Adam apple bobbed. The movement elicited a warmth that spread through her chest like a fire and her heart started to beat wildly. To distract herself, Clarke sat up and took a sip of her drink herself, but unfortunately her brain seemed to be under some kind of Bellamy bound spell, making it impossible to swallow like an adult. Some of the amber liquid escaped her mouth and landed on her chest, trailing down her generous cleavage.     

Clarke could feel Bellamy’s gaze burning a hole where the drops of scotch travelled down her breasts, and when her own eyes left her chest, she met Bellamy’s eyes, which quickly snatched up to hers.

Bellamy’s pupils were blown wide and he wet his lips with his tongue, making something ache between her thighs. Something flashed in his eyes and the next thing Clarke knew was that their lips met in the middle of the space between them. Bellamy’s hand came up to her cheek to hold her in place and Clarke’s held on to the curls in his neck – also making sure he couldn’t just leave.  

His tongue licked her lips, asking for entrance, and when Bellamy entered Clarke’s mouth and he stroked her tongue, all she could think was ‘ _Fuck, yes_ ’. The little moan that escaped her encouraged Bellamy to abandon the scotch he was holding and to pull her flush against his hard form. Clarke put her own glass next to his, so her hand could join the other one at the base of his neck. Kissing him stirred up something inside of her and a familiar spark awakened in her stomach.

Clarke found her way onto his lap, lips never breaking their kiss, and Bellamy squeezed her ass, making her flesh break into goose bumps. He tasted like the scotch they shared and something indescribable, something that had to be just _Bellamy_ ; and it tasted amazing. Their kiss was heated; a battle for dominance, a dance of push and pull. Clarke swirled her tongue around his, before he took hers in between his lips to suck on it. She let out a sound of pleasure that was downright embarrassing, if it weren’t for Bellamy being the one who elicited the moan.  

When the blonde got her tongue back, she used it to nuzzle Bellamy’s perfect jawline. It had such a sharp angle, Clarke was sure he could use it to cut marble. She started at the cute dimple in his chin and kissed her way down to his throat. She sucked his pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark, and Bellamy let out a loud groan.

“Princess,” he rasped, and she could feel her panties getting wetter.

His strong hands were on her hips, pressing her cunt against the bulge in his pants. Her throbbing sex needed attention so badly, it made her dizzy with want, so she rolled her hips to get the friction she so desperately wanted. His hands travelled over her ass and she could feel his hard shaft clearly through his pants. Teasing her. Tempting her. Driving her insane.

Clarke felt a delicious heat starting at her entrance; one that made her heart beat loudly and made her body buzz with need. It felt so good, and all she wanted was _more_ and more of Bellamy. The must-have she felt was so strong, Clarke feared she would never be satisfied.  

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” Bellamy cried out in pleasure, and it would’ve spurred her on even more, but she didn’t want to dry hump her best friend on a hotel balcony where everyone could see them. In that split second, one that was overloaded with lust and carnal need for _more_ , Clarke decided to drag Bellamy to her hotel bed. He went along very willingly.

Bellamy’s desire for her was so clearly drawn in his eyes that it made her wonder where he’d hid it for so long, but when her back hit the mattress and Bellamy’s attention was turned on her bosom, all of her thoughts disappeared. Her purple bridesmaid dress and bra already decorated the floor, so there wasn’t anything stopping Bellamy anymore from getting acquainted with her breasts.

Bellamy’s tongue started to play with one of her nipples, after he’d taken a moment to admire her tits, and her toes curled in satisfaction. “God, Princess, do you have any idea how sexy you are?” Bellamy growled between sucking and licking her hardened buds. “You make me lose my mind, Clarke.”

Everything he did to her, with his hands, his lips, his moans, made her want more. A surge of pride went through her when hearing that she made Bellamy feel the same hunger he brought out in her. Bellamy’s soft lips travelled to her neck and hungrily nuzzled her collarbone. Clarke knew it would leave a mark, but she didn’t care.

“Please fuck me…” she pleaded, frantically. “Fuck me Bell, now!”

That comment made the tent in his pants even more visible and Bellamy pulled her in for another hungry kiss. The kiss made Clarke even more impatient and she let Bellamy know she was ready to get down to business. They pulled off each other’s clothes in a hasty manner and when they were both naked, they admired each other’s bodies. His pupils had swallowed his lovely browns entirely and Clarke was sure she had the same hungry look in her eyes as he had.

Clarke was sure she could write a sonnet about his chest alone, if she hadn’t been so intoxicated by lust. His defined abs and his flawless caramel coloured skin made her mouth water. His chest was covered with curls that were a delicious shade darker at his pelvis; she couldn’t wait to lick Bellamy’s smooth skin and to suck those soft hairs.

Then Clarke let her gaze shift lower. Bellamy’s shaft was just as impressive as she thought it would be. Eight inches of hot, hard and veiny dark steel. The anticipation of him inside of her made her dizzy and lick her lips. The way his angry twitching cock looked at her made her even more wild.

“Do you have a condom?” she whispered, a little breathless, and hearing her plea made his hot cock flicker impatiently, desperate to touch something, to find some relief.

Bellamy only nodded in response, gaze still stuck on her wet cunt. He got his wallet out of his pants and took a condom out of it. “I don’t think we need any lube” he smirked, while he wrapped his cock, and she agreed.

He settled heavily between her legs, his cock hard and eager to get inside her. Bellamy placed one hand on her hip he the other one next to her head, to steady himself. He coated his shaft with her wetness and pushed his head inside of her, before slowly breaking her walls. It took a few thrusts to fill her up completely and she couldn’t keep quiet when he tried to find his way inside of her.  

“You’re so tight,” Bellamy commented with a low and scratchy voice. Clarke rocked her hips to create more friction. Bellamy groaned deep in his throat in response and slid in and out of her; getting a load moan from her in return.

“God, you feel so good in me that I wanna scream,” Clarke whimpered as he rode her, completely lost in pleasure, and she grabbed onto his shoulders when he pushed back into her.

“Yeah?” he whispered, shakily, before quickly pecking her lips.

Heat spun through her, starting at the intimate place where they were connected. “Faster..” Clarke begged and Bellamy obliged.

Clarke could feel Bellamy getting closer as he started to tremble inside of her, but he didn’t let go yet. As the selfless man he was, he made sure she got hers, before he got his.

He used his rough thumb to rub her clit to spur her along, and it set her nerves on fire. Her whole body simultaneously tensed and lit up with pleasure, and the intensified hunger in her pussy was addictive. “Get in deeper, Bell” she ordered, light-headed. Clarke grabbed Bellamy by his behind to guide him inside of her where he was needed and clawed his ass with her nails in the process. Bellamy let out a small hiss, and Clarke opened her mouth to apologise, but then he hit the end of her tunnel. It was the most amazing feeling Clarke had ever felt and her cry of ecstasy echoed in her hotel room.

“You like that, Princess?” Bellamy growled as he hit that spot over and over again.

“I – _ah!_ – love it, Bellamy,” she was able to say, as her senses overloaded. Clarke could feel drops of sweat dripple down her legs and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her cunt was singing in satisfaction, and when Bellamy’s cock stroked her G-spot, Clarke knew her climax would be there soon.

The second Clarke tumbled headfirst into a fierce, torrid orgasm, her walls milked out his. It was so intense, and Clarke was so consumed by the pleasure that crashed over her like a strong wave, she barely felt Bellamy stop his movements and fill the condom with his cum.

He rested his forehead against hers when they tried to catch their breaths, breathing in each other’s scent. Bellamy’s curls were stuck against his brow and his cheeks were red due to exertion; Clarke didn’t believe anyone had ever seen something so lovely.

Bellamy carefully slipped out of her and tossed away the condom in the bathroom. He returned with a warm cloth for Clarke so he could clean her. “Thank you,” she whispered when he softly stroked the inside of her thighs, cleaning her.  

A moment later the post-orgasm bliss kicked in and she fell asleep in his warm and strong arms. Clarke felt treasured and cared for in Bellamy’s embrace. The blonde was too far gone to question this feeling, and enjoyed it instead.

 

***

 

Bellamy had left the next morning, when Clarke awakened. All that was left of him was his scent that lingered on the sheets and a hastily written note in his handwriting that promised a phone call.

Clarke needed a moment before she could get out of bed to continue with her morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm looking for a beta, so if you know someone (or are someone) who's interested, please let me know on tumblr. This is me: [fieldsofpoppyflowers](). :D
> 
> If you found any errors, please let me know. I'd also love to hear your thoughts and feels, bc that's always The Best™ :D xx


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